


How Feyre Got Revenge

by Magikenz



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9278537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magikenz/pseuds/Magikenz
Summary: After a year of being undercover, Feyre receives a familiar vanishing note with black scrawl on it. It's time to start a war, it seems. Or to finish one. Finally Feyre will get her revenge.All of these characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Comments and kudos are appreciated.(This fic was inspired by a post I saw on tumblr but cannot find now. You know who you are!)





	

Dinner is horribly boring with just Tamlin and I in the dinning room. The raucous guests that usually join us left the Court yesterday because of the siege. Lucien rode off this morning with reinforcements, though I don't see him often anymore. Tamlin makes sure of that. In fact the only males I see are Tam and a few of my guards because the High Lord's jealousy grew exponentially while I was away. Ianthe, too, has vanished. Earlier she said she would spend the evening fasting and praying. But I saw her disappear with a lovely stable boy an hour ago...

With the starving villagers rioting and battles raging in the Winter Court, you'd think that Tam would be more concerned. Instead, he sits tall at his place with a golden goblet in his hand and a chunk of expensive meat in his mouth. His robes are purple tonight, with white fur trim. There's a gold flash as he cuts into his steak. The cutlery was a gift from some unknown nobel for saving his estate. I imagine that the same nobel is currently being hanged by his subjects just outside our estate walls. 

Explosions echo outside, turning the dark skies orange and yellow. The towering glass windows rattle. We've been under siege for two days, and while I'm on the people's side, I can't let them know. I have to keep wearing these ridiculously lavish clothes so that Tam, Ianthe, Lucien, and I seem like a united front. All morning I heard them chanting for my head on a pike. I shudder now just thinking about it. 

"Feyre," Tamlin says gently. "Are you alright?" 

I startle and notice that I've been toying with the same chunk of carrot for the last ten minutes. I force a small smile. "Yes. It's just the," I break off and nod towards the windows. The screaming has become more imaginative now. A rock bounces off the window closest to me. Tamlin will probably throttle the guard that let that villager through after I'm asleep tonight. 

"Ah." The High Lord smiles reassuringly, his blue eyes glowing. "That will be over in a few days. The villagers do not have enough to sustain a full coup, and our forces are numerous." 

 _You mean Hybern's forces,_ I think. I try to take false comfort in his words. After all, if I'm beheaded then Rhy's operation is blown. 

Thinking of Rhysand makes my heart ache and my stomach turn. It's been a year since I was taken from him in the Palace of Hybern, a year since I was sworn in as High Lady of the Night Court. A year since we became mates. A year of silence. I know that we're still linked, that the King didn't really break our mating bond, but sometimes it grows so empty inside my chest that I feel as if I need to reach for miles to get to him. 

Suddenly, a strip of creamy parchment paper appears and floats to rest on my plate. It is just wide enough for three words printed in familiar scrawl.  _Wreak havoc, darling._

I try to keep from smiling as the juices from the meat soak into the paper. The last time I'd mentally contacted Rhysand, almost eleven months ago, we'd agreed on those as code words. For when I was finished being a spy. For when I could return _home_. My blood roared in my ears as I glanced up to make sure Tam hadn't noticed. Luckily, he was watching the windows and chattering about some party he was thinking of throwing after repairs were completed. 

I consider my options, pretending to toy with the mashed potatoes. 

I could simply take the decorative dagger now strapped to my waist and slit his throat. Then I could winnow into the Autumn Court, then the Night Court, and to the cabin where Rhys would be waiting. I let my fingers wrap around the jeweled handle thoughtfully. 

Or I could tear this mansion apart brick by brick as the expensive furniture, carpets, and curtains rose as ashes into the sky. I imagine Tamlin trying to find the threat while I just winnow straight to the Illyrian Mountains.

Then I feel something dark twist my heart. No. I don't want a quick escape. I want Tamlin to feel the pain I'd felt Under the Mountain and right before our wedding. I want to make him bleed like they made me bleed in my cell while he just sat by and let them. Stone faced and passive.To feel trapped and isolated and exposed all at once. As I gaze at the High Lord of Spring, I realize that I want him to beg at my feet like I had begged him to let me out of the mansion. 

My power surged in my blood, purring encouragement as Tamlin talks on about feasts and taxes and taffeta for a new gown. 

My mind made up, I suddenly leap to my feet. My gilded chair tips over and meets the floor with a heavy bang. Tamlin stops talking, half surprised and half worried. 

"Feyre," he begins. 

I don't let him finish. I send my power, a sliver of Rhy's power, curling towards him. The floor fills with dark mists as they seep and swirl out of my fingertips. It grips him by his wrists, ankles, and throat and sends him flying into the wall with a crack. Pinning him, I burst into flames, and Tamlin screams. I cut him off with wind. 

The orange flames lap at my neck and wrists as I prowl forward, leaving smoking footprints behind. His eyes stretch wide as they take me in, flames and anger and darkness. This must be what it's like to behold a demon. 

"What..." he sputters. I sense him trying to grow angry, trying to find malice in that heart of his. He can't. Only bewilderment. 

I grow closer as he struggles. I've had no practice, but I've had months of pent up resentment and anger and loneliness that has been forged into sharp rage. I twist the power that is holding him to the wall and crush both wrists. Then I let him drop to the carpet. 

He's crying over the blinding pain. "What have you become," he whispers. 

I lash out with ice, making the room grow deathly cold. Shards splinter the windows and sink into the walls. Frost creeps over the floor and ceiling. The table is a block of ice. Tamlin's lips are blue.  

Then I send wind rocketing around the room, blasting him in the face until he can't catch his breath. Suffocating. 

I lean down and grab his chin, digging my nails into the skin. " _Who._ Who am I? I am Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court." 

"There is no such thing," he spits

Rage rises until I'm almost sick with it. _There's no such thing? What do you mean there's no such thing?_ I let black Illyrian wings explode from my back and talons sprout from my hands. They curl like obsidian scythes into his skin, threatening to break it. The room has grown shadowed because of the expanse of my wings. "How can you say there's no such thing," I hiss in his hear. "If I'm standing right in front of you?"  

Then the windows shatter and the dinning room doors are torn from their hinges. I throw up a barrier with wind and survey the guards who stand, frightened and loyal, with swords pointed at me. 

"You have locked me up for the last time," I say to Tamlin who is still cradling his wrists to his chest. My voice does not quaver. It's as hard and solid as marble. "I will never be tamed by you, by anyone." As the last surprise, I let my Illyrian tattoo appear. The black ink curling up my forearm seems to wound him the most. 

Tamlin roars. He phases into his beast form and lunges, but I winnow to the door. Wolves made of silvery water surround me, gnashing their fangs. I conjure one that looks exactly like the first Fae I killed and make it stand in front, snarling and howling at the High Lord of Spring. The shield of wind behind me whips my hair from its pins until it must look wild.

Behind me, I hear shouts from Tamlin's guards and mercenaries. Servants are screaming and sprinting in every direction. I spread my wings wide and throw more of Rhysand's power at Tamlin. His knees buckle as he bellows. I let the wolves attack until he's soaked and half drowned. Then I stalk towards him, "I am High Lady of the Night Court." Then I cause his nerves to tighten until he passes out. 

Gazing at him, I realize that I can't bring myself to kill him. He gave me food, safety, and shelter when I'd needed it most. I frown, close my eyes, and winnow to Ianthe. 

I find her naked with the guard from earlier. She shrieks when I appear, wings, claws, and all. 

I freeze her room, making a forest of ice cycles that dangles from the ceiling, all pointed right at their bodies. 

I look at the soldier. "Run," I hiss. He obeys. 

Ianthe is blinking, her mind whirling as she tries to find a way out. Unlike Tamlin, she doesn't seem surprised. I slam the door shut with wind so forceful I know that no one will be able to open it from the inside or out except me. Her eyes come to rest on mine. 

"What have you done to him, you snake," she asks. Her voice cracks. 

I narrow my eyes. "I'm the snake? At least I don't slither into High Lord's beds for power and fame." 

She turns pink, from anger or embarrassment or maybe both. "Don't you? You came here as a human, and somehow tricked him into loving you. And now you have _power_...of sorts." 

"I am Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court. I bow to no one. My power and fame are mine alone," I say. "And I will be caged no longer." 

"Pretty words for a whor-" 

I lash out with wind again and steal her breath. She gasps and her eyes budge as blind terror takes over her body. With Rhy's power I reach out and snap her fingers one by one. Her mouth flies open as she tries to scream. 

"Do you remember this pain, Ianthe," I spit, coming closer, still breaking her fingers. My skirts, navy and slightly charred, snap around my legs. I've let the claws disappear now; only the wings remain. As black and as menacing as death itself. 

I see the terror blooming in her mind as she remembers that night in the Court of Nightmares, and I allow the black mist to wrap loosely around her neck. 

"Don't ever," I whisper. "Come near my  _mate_ again." 

Then I let the wind die and the ice drop all at once. She screams in terror and pain, but I melt the ice with fire just before the spikes can pierce her skin. The flames hit the headboard and it explodes into flames. She screams again, and I see her eyes jerk towards her knife reflexively. 

I smirk and leave her. 

I find Lucien hurrying down the grand marble staircase. We're alone, the servants have scattered and the guards are stupidly attending Ianthe. The siege must have stopped when I'd broken the windows. 

The fox's eyes widen and his magical one whirrs as I appear in his path. "So you've come for me at last." 

I fold my wings behind me. "You knew I would." 

The silence is filled with crashes from the kitchen, and a distant, familiar roaring. And a woman's shrill curses. 

"You're a monster, Feyre," Lucien says quietly. 

"And you're not?" 

"I tried to help you," he says. "I begged Tam to let you free, told him that you could take care of yourself." He looks so defeated as his shoulders sag and he sighs, looking at the ground. "Have you come to maim me too?"

I watch him carefully, eyeing the dagger in his belt. "I know about Elaine."

His head jerks up. "What?"

"Elaine. I know she's your mate," I say simply. "I was going to ask you to come with me. We could both break out from under Tamlin together."

"I am his emissary," he says. But it's halfhearted. The thought of seeing his mate after a year of being apart...the thought of Tamlin's in the aftermath of all this...

"Lucien please. You were my friend." I realize how much I've missed him. 

He considers, tilting his head to one side. His auburn hair glows in the candlelight. 

To my right, a door bursts open and Tamlin bellows incoherently. I whirl to find him bearing down on me. Someone has splinted his wrists. There's a nasty gash on his head, and he's still got patches of fur on his body. 

"Feyre stop!" 

"Last chance," I say to Lucien. I set the drapes below on fire, and listen to the flames climb the walls. The warmth is excruciating. I feel sweat already sprouting on my upper lip. 

"FEYRE," Tamlin roars. He's getting too close...

"Last--" then Lucien grabs my arm and together we winnow away. 

With a flash of blinding light, and a burst of cold air we land haphazardly in the snow. I sit up and brush the stuff from my face, looking around. Lucien is next to me, peeling himself off the ground. The evergreen scent around us is almost overpowering. 

"Where are we," I ask. 

"I winnowed to the spot where I found you that time with Rhys. It was the only one I knew." 

A smile breaks over my face and I jump to my feet. My dress is ruined, but I hardly care. My wings have vanished as well, having served their purpose at striking fear into my enemies. "Home," I mutter. I look at Lucien who seems so out of place in the snow and Illyrian mountains. His brightly colored Spring Court attire is almost laughable. "Thank you for coming with me." 

There is a certain fear in his eyes. "It was for my mate." 

I nod. "You will be safe here. From Tamlin and Ianthe, and from the Autumn Court." His former home had allied with the Spring Court and Hybern's armies because they didn't want to see another age like Under the Mountain. "Come on." I grab his hand and winnow, this time to the edge of the clearing where a familiar cabin sits. 

Seeing the cabin after all this time makes me swell with pride and longing. I can hear my friends inside laughing, talking. I call for Rhys through our bond. 

Almost immediately the door bursts open. Snow falls from the roof and lands with a plop below. And there is the High Lord of the Night Court in all of his dark glory, hair perfect, golden skin glowing, as he strides towards me.  

I start running before I even know that my legs are moving. And then I'm smacking into him, feeling his muscles and warmth. His scent surrounds me, and then I'm crying and getting snot all over his impeccable suit jacket. I entangle my hands in the back of his hair and his mouth meets mine. 

"Welcome home, Feyre, darling."  


End file.
